Fake Wife

by Stacey Lynn

  Her voice is sad. Tears pool in her eyes and she shakes her head. Another large swallow of her drink and she’s no longer flinching.

  Yeah, she’s getting drunk. If she wasn’t, no way would she be rambling to me.

  “What’d you give him?”

  Sad brown eyes flick to me and back to her glass. “You know, my grandma used to tell me when you give your body to a man, be sure to keep your heart safe. A man will take care of your body, but it’s the rare one who will care for your heart.”

  The slick, greasy feel of oil slides through me. In the last week, we’ve talked about where she grew up in Tennessee, and she’s always mentioned her grandma, never her parents, except to say they died. I stick on that thought and not what she’s just implied—that her heart belongs to another man.

  I eye the tequila. Getting trashed sounds like a better idea by the second. Anything to wash away the sludge taste in my gut.

  “So, yeah, Corbin,” she continues, still playing with her glass. “I loved him. Still do, but it’s been a week since I found him with that…Missy. Doesn’t mean I don’t know I’m worth more than that, just means the pain is still fresh.”

  And I’m now a larger asshole than Drake. Of course she’d still feel that pain. Me and my dick wanting her to be mine and jumping to the wrong conclusions have made this night worse than it should have been.

  “You never mention your parents,” I say to change the subject.

  “They’re dead, Corbin.” She takes another chug of tequila and I’m batting negative gazillion for the night.

  “Teagan—”

  “When I was twelve. Car accident. Grandma took me in and raised me on her farm. I barely knew her before I went to live with her. She wasn’t the most emotional woman or the kindest; not cold, but not overly affectionate. She and my mom were never really close. There’s no big family drama there, and I liked being with her, with her horses. Plus, she was wise. She took care of me.” Finally, her eyes lift to mine, and in them there’s nothing but pain and drunkenness. “She died when I was twenty. Gave me her farm, and I sold it to pay for school knowing I didn’t want to settle there. Then I used the rest to help pay for Drake’s med school.”

  A cold laugh.

  Another chug.

  “I should have followed grandma’s advice and been smarter.”

  The bottle in my hand crunches, water splashes onto the floor, and I do nothing to clean it.

  My legs take me to Teagan before my head can tell me to stop, to be safe and give her space, but I can’t.

  “You’re not stupid, Teagan.” I’m standing next to her, but she doesn’t look at me. Stares at her tequila glass like it’s the only important thing in the room. Perhaps it is. I certainly haven’t shown her that her heart is safe with me. Haven’t shown her I want it to be, either. “Giving your heart to a man who ends up not deserving it doesn’t make you stupid, it makes you brave to take the risk in the first place. If you know you’re worth more than him, tell me why when I first saw you two together, it looked like you still loved him. Still want him.”

  She laughs quietly. Barely a whisper of a sound and she shakes her head. The movement makes her hair fall, hiding her face from me, and that won’t do. She wears her emotions clear as day all over her face.

  I brush her silky hair back, tucking a thick chunk behind her ear. A deeper blush darkens her cheeks and I run my knuckles over it, her skin hot and flush. Warm and tempting.

  I’m asking her about another man and all I want to do is kiss her.

  I am so screwed.

  “I wasn’t thinking about him,” she whispers. Her words are starting to slur, but she continues. “Was thinking about you.”

  My hand falls to her chin and I tilt her so she’s looking at me. So drunk, lids half open, that if she drinks any more tequila she’s going to be swimming in it. “I was thinking about our kiss in the car and how much I wanted more of it.”

  My brain shouts danger danger danger! My dick hardens, pushes against my zipper. He’s giving me the go sign, and as smart as I am, following my dick will be a mistake.

  Doesn’t matter.

  “Corbin,” she whispers.

  I take it as a plea. I pull her to her feet, catching her as she sways.

  I want to kiss her. Take care of her. Her body and her heart. Show her that I’m not the asshole I’ve been so far. Prove to her exactly how much she deserves better than Drake. I want to erase his memory from her so she never feels another stab of pain from anyone.

  “I’m going to kiss you,” I whisper. My hand slides to the side of her throat. Her pulse is wild, fluttering against my palm.

  Her lips part.

  Acceptance.

  I lean closer, tequila wafting off her breath like the most delicious distillery.

  Then she jolts.

  Her eyes flicker and she turns as green as her dress.

  Oh crap.

  “I think I’m going to throw up.”

  And she does, all over the floor and my feet.

  Chapter 13

  Teagan

  My eyes fly open into a completely dark room. There’s a wall of heat behind me, and something cool in my arm in front of me.

  I blink rapidly, looking around, and the bright lights on the clock tell me it’s three o’clock exactly.

  My head is pounding, a consequence of way too much tequila, too little food, too much rotten emotion.

  My body is shouting for water.

  I shift my arm and smile. I’ve been hugging a plastic bowl while I slept, and behind me, the hot wall of heat shifts and groans.

  “You okay?” Corbin’s voice is quiet and gruff. I turn to him and his eyes are still closed.

  “Yeah.” I sound like a frog. “Need water.”

  “There’s some on the table.”

  I take it, the large glass illuminated by the clock, and chug it all down. It’s not nearly enough, but there’s no way I’m moving out of this bed.

  I barely remember anything after I puked in the kitchen. Nothing except warm hands at my back, a cold cloth on my forehead. Corbin murmuring that it was okay. Apologies between my retching.

  Then nothing.

  I lay back down in bed, curling into a ball and putting space between us.

  Before he started taking care of me, he was going to kiss me. Wanted to kiss me.

  Nothing says I want you, too, like puking all over his Ferragamos.

  Walking Disaster should become my new middle name.

  Once I’m settled in bed, his hand runs the length of my side. “Go back to sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

  I highly doubt it. I shared way too much last night. Stepped over a line I’m not sure I can come back from.

  But it doesn’t matter at all, because when I wake up again, a fresh glass of water and pain pills next to the clock telling me it’s almost ten and the room is bright and warm, there’s no longer a body next to me.

  And after a quick search, I learn Corbin isn’t here.

  In the last week since I moved into Corbin’s condo, it’s not uncommon that he’s gone for the day before I wake up. But the coffee is usually hot and fresh and there’s always either a note or a text from him letting me know when he’ll be home.

  For him to leave me without a single word is odd.

  I’m still groggy, my head pounding, when I reach the kitchen, cellphone and charger in hand. The battery died, so I plug it into the outlet at his kitchen bar and grab a coffee mug from one of the glass-front cupboards.

  The coffee in the pot is cold and I pop my filled mug into the microwave.

  I’ll make more later, when my hands aren’t so shaky. Hopefully a cup of nuked coffee will be better than nothing.

  I slide a bagel into the toaster and grab a knife and the cream cheese, and when everything is done, I slather my bagel with more than enough cream cheese and settle down at the counter.

  My phone is on, still charging, but a half dozen text message bubbles flic
ker on the screen.

  Caitlin’s and Drake’s names pop up and I groan, shoving a bite of bagel into my mouth.

  Seeing his name, even while I refuse to look at his messages, makes me want to throw up again.

  It’s pretty safe to say last night was a disaster of epic proportions. Unfortunately, I remember everything. Seeing Drake and Missy. The abrupt turn of Corbin’s emotions. The kiss in the car, the touches at dinner that made me want to lean into his hold, to be the woman I’m only pretending to be to him.

  And the almost-kiss right before I threw up all over him.

  Shame fills me and I choke down the nasty coffee to wash away the vile taste of the memories.

  How embarrassing.

  Yet he’d slept with me. He comforted me when he could have left me and gone to his own bed, especially once I woke up and assured him I was fine.

  He took care of me this morning before he disappeared, leaving painkillers and more water knowing I’d need it.

  None of it makes sense. He’s hot one minute, frigid the next. He jumps from playful and teasing to tense and vicious quick enough to give me whiplash.

  It’s a glaring reminder that though we’ve spent a week together, we know very little about each other, and before we can push this charade too far, before we can pass the point of no return where I’m committed to him—legally—for two years, I need to know everything I can about him.

  And I know just the person to give me all the answers. The true ones, the ones that will prove exactly how much dirt Caitlin has on Corbin Lane. I could go straight to the source, but considering I have no idea where he is or when he’ll be back, Caitlin’s my next best option.

  After all, she did offer.

  —

  After returning Caitlin’s text message, we agree to meet at Dirty Martini’s. It’s a downtown bar within walking distance of Corbin’s building. Since we aren’t meeting until four, it gives me plenty of time to shake off the remaining dregs of my tequila hangover, shower, and change into a classy pair of black, wide-leg trousers with a silky peach tank top. I look more professional than trendy, the outfit being one of my favorites to wear to the library. After spending last night in a beautiful gown and shoes I’d never be able to afford on my own, wearing something of mine makes me feel more like myself.

  I’ve messaged Corbin only once today, asking when he’ll be home, and it hurts he hasn’t yet texted me back. Clearly he’s busy, but his silence is nerve-racking and difficult to push out of my mind as I enter Dirty Martini’s.

  The martini bar is small, but lovely with a plush velvet, royal blue L-shaped couch that spans the length of two of the walls as soon as I enter. It’s vintage and farmhouse chic with aged wooden tables and black metal chairs that sit facing the couches. I spot Caitlin almost immediately, sitting at a large semiprivate table near the back corner of the bar.

  She’s on a gray high-back couch that looks as comfortable and warm as the blue couch up front. I’m immediately in love with this place. Quiet but upbeat jazz music filters through the speakers. Given that it’s only four o’clock on a Saturday afternoon in the summer, the place is half filled with customers, but not overly loud.

  “Hi,” I say, greeting Caitlin as I reach the table she’s waved me to. I toss my purse onto the couch and am wrapped in her arms for a brief hug.

  “Thanks for calling me today. I was worried last night I might have scared you. Trey says sometimes I come on too strong with new people.”

  She did. She does. I think I like it about her. Caitlin seems to be the kind of person who lets everything hang out and has nothing to hide. My kind of people.

  “No worries. How are you?”

  I slide into the booth, taking a view that hides me from the entire restaurant.

  “Good.” She flicks her red wavy hair off her shoulder and takes a sip of her martini. “I’ve already ordered. And don’t worry about paying, tonight’s dinner and drinks are on me.”

  And confirm I’m the gold digger I’ve seen connected with my name this week? No thanks so much. “It’s okay. I can cover mine.”

  “Sure you can, but I like you, and my dad always said I have more money than sense so I like to spend it on people.”

  She really is a tiny little bulldozer. I figure I won’t be able to win an argument with her, so I don’t bother.

  A waiter dressed in all black appears at our table and slides a coaster and glass of water in front of me. “Welcome to Dirty’s,” he says, looking at me with a professional yet slightly flirtatious smile. His blond hair is pulled back into a man bun, his stubble is several days old, yet I can still make out his full lips and tanned skin. He’s cute, handsome really, and I would guess about my age. “Can I get you something to drink or do you require a few more minutes?”

  Ever since Caitlin suggested we meet here, I’ve known exactly what I want to order. “I’ll take a peartini please.”

  The sweet martini is my favorite.

  His grin widens into a full smile. “Very well. I’ll bring it right out to you. Caitlin, do you need anything else?”

  She rocks her glass back and forth playfully. “I’m good, Jonas, thanks.”

  He winks at her and his voice drops. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  As soon as his back is turned to us and he’s out of earshot, I lean across the table. “What was that about?”

  She takes a sip of her drink and sets it down, her smile completely devilish. “Jonas and I go way back. He’s, well, let’s just say he’s a good friend when I’m feeling lonely.”

  I press my lips together smiling at her as my gaze slides in his direction. He’s already heading back, martini glass and shaker on his tray, and he’s not looking at us, but is scanning the other guests in the bar. Yeah, he’s built, moves like a man in control of his body, and that hair and stubble…“Lucky girl,” I mutter.

  “He’s fun. I met him here one night, took him home with me. That was two years ago.”

  Two years and she hasn’t locked him down? And they both seem so comfortable and playful with each other. I’ve never enjoyed a friends-with-benefits-type relationship she’s suggesting, but that seems like a long time for hearts not to get attached. There has to be a story here. One I can’t wait to dive into. “You have good taste.”

  “I know.” She grins. “That’s why I’m friends with Corbin and Trey. And speaking of…”

  Her brows rise and her voice drifts off.

  The timing is perfect as Jonas reaches our table. “Your peartini, Caitlin’s pretty friend. Anything else?”

  He’s a flirt, good at it, which I imagine drastically helps him with his tips. If his flirting bothers Caitlin, she doesn’t show it. “Keep the drinks filled, please, Jonas. Oh, and bring us the cheese and seafood plates as well as the bruschetta.”

  “Your wish is my command, gorgeous.” He gives us both a slight bow, mischief glimmering in his blue eyes. He taps the table once before quickly moving to another.

  “Okay. There’s definitely a story with you two. Spill it.”

  She waves me off. “It’s nothing, honest. Besides, we didn’t come here to talk about me. We came here to talk about you and Corbin, and what I’m dying to know is when I need to mark my calendar for your wedding.”

  She throws out wedding with air quotes and my martini glass stops at my lips. “What?”

  “Oh please. Trey told me all about Grandma Eleanor’s will and the clause about Corbin getting her house. If you think it took us longer than about half a second to figure out exactly why you’re with Corbin, he doesn’t know us nearly as well as we know him.”

  Her smile is still kind, yet I’m frozen. I reach for my purse, wanting my cellphone. Corbin’s the one who didn’t want to tell his friends. Yet he’s doing a great job of avoiding me today, or at least that’s what it seems like.

  “You can breathe,” Caitlin says, laughing lightly. “I’m not going to skewer you or anything. I’m just curious about the deal. And wheth
er my dress needs to be appropriate for an indoor or outdoor wedding. Afternoon? Black tie? Give me the deets.”

  My fingertips are tapping mindlessly on the wooden table top. A lump clogs my throat, making it difficult to talk. Corbin should have known his friends would figure this out. Why he didn’t want to tell them and be up front about it confuses me. Unless he’s unsure he wants to go through with it?

  God, and who could blame him? I get white girl wasted and puke all over him and his kitchen floor.

  “We’re trying to look out for him, Teagan,” Caitlin says. Her vibrant green eyes have softened and her voice has quieted, as if she’s afraid of scaring me off. Funny that she chose now to be gentle with me. “We love him and we haven’t really seen him deal with Eleanor’s death. Everything happened so fast, and now suddenly you’re here. I like you, don’t get me wrong—”

  “But you want to make sure I’m good enough for him. I get it.” I do. I truly do. He has good friends who would protect him like this. I take a hefty swallow of my peartini, the pear vodka burning my throat a bit, and I set it down.

  I don’t need to get drunk two days in a row, but I do need to gain her trust.

  “I’m not a gold digger, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  She blinks rapidly, as if the very idea never occurred to her, and then she throws her head back and laughs. It’s a tinkly laugh, sweet and magical. I stare at her. “You’re great, Teagan. I think I might love you. There’s no way in hell I’d ever think that about you. I’ve been around rich people my entire life, and those seeking to be rich. I can spot a money-grubbing bitch from a mile away, and trust me, you don’t have it in you.”

  “I think you should talk to Corbin.”

  “I could. But I want the truth, and he’s the king of smooth answers and maneuvers, something he learned from being a Lane. You, on the other hand, have innocence and honesty written all over you.”

  I glance around the restaurant but there’s no one close to us to hear anything.

  “Okay.” I take a quick sip of my drink and then reach for my water. “But you can’t tell Trey. At least let Corbin have that, and you can’t say anything to him until I tell him I told you. Deal?”